Loving a monster is not possible
by CarolineWrites
Summary: Rumplestiltskin does not believe Belle when she says that she loves him. He locks her in his dungeon. But what were the two of them thinking, before their confrontation in the dungeon? (Oneshot, Rumbelle)


**Set in Fairytale Land. Deals with their thoughts and emotions while Belle is locked up in Rumplestiltskin's dungeon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time. Or Belle. Or Rumplestiltskin. Or Disney or the fairytales that Rumplestiltskin and Belle are based upon. All in all; this is so not mine and the idea isn't even very new. All I came up with are the words, and even those are not my creation. If they were, I'd wish you, the reader, good luck.**

_Belle_

It had worked. For a moment, those odd, blinking scales had begin to fade. His lips had turned soft, his skin returned to something soft to the touch. Almost. So close. Nearly there. Just one more. Then the curse would be gone. He would be a man again. They could be together. Her kiss had worked, he loved her. She loved him.

Then he had tossed her aside. He had shouted, turned back into the monster that had haunted her dreams those first few weeks. Belle wanted to be brave. Couldn't. He made it impossible, with his sudden switches, his gestures and snarls and the air of magic surrounding him. That was the monster. Not the scales or the teeth or anything else. But when he became inhuman. When he no longer was Rumplestiltskin. When he was the Dark One. When Belle could not see the man no matter how hard she tried.

Despite that, she loved him. Not a doubt in her mind that she did. She would not cry, though. Brave men and women do not cry without knowing their faith.

_Rumplestiltskin_

It had to be a trick. Had to. Must be.

He, Rumplestiltskin, had been made into a fool. The queen had tricked him, lured him into believing once more. Made him into an idiot. As if he could be loved. Had not time proven as much, starting with the queen's own mother? Milah, Cora, countless prostitutes who would have been willing to sleep with anyone, but when they saw him they ran away. Their screams of terror were still audible in Rumplestiltskin's ears.

Belle could not possibly love him. He refused to believe that she did. That a beautiful, young, perfect thing such as her could ever love him. He had fooled himself, tricked himself into believing that her smiles and laughs were geniune. Of course they weren't. Experience ought to have taught him as much by now. Over a century of power and magic, and Rumplestiltskin still had not learned. He was foolish. A foolish, old monster.

_Belle_

How long had she been locked up in the dark, damp dungeon? Belle did not know. Minutes? Hours? Days? There was nothing there to distract her from her thoughts. She could hear the faint sounds of crashes, of him yelling. To himself? To the queen in the mirror? To one of the nearby villagers? Belle did not know. Did not want to know. Why had she ever believed herself to be brave? Someone brave would not be so resigned to their own faith. They would scream, demand to be heard. She ought never have gone with him.

Yet she was glad that she had.

Because he could be amazing. When he had his cup of tea and he was still next to her. When Rumplestiltskin ceased being The Dark One and instead was merely the peaceful and quiet spinner. The man she loved. For she did love him. More than she had ever loved anyone. Far more than Belle could ever have imagined loving Gaston. Despite the fact that Rumplestiltskin sometimes terrified her, to the point where she could not sleep. To the point where she would toss and turn in her bed, or sit up and look at her door. Somehow she would know when he did not sleep. So now she sat against the cold, damp wall, waiting.

_Rumplestiltskin_

Crash! The sound of him smashing the various glass objects around the dark castle. Cabinets, where the doors had once had little glass squares. Gone. Broken. Smashed. The floor was covered with broken glass. It crunched underneath Rumplestiltskin's boots as he paced around, tearing at his hair, screaming in agony. Never, except perhaps when he had lost Bae, had Rumplestiltskin felt this way. He loathed his very existance, that he was so desperate for affection that he had allowed the beautiful creature in the dungeon to crawl into his black heart.

Out of the kitchen. Leaving only broken glass behind. He slammed the door shut behind him, hard. Too hard. It flung open, the upper hinge popping off, leaving the door hanging. Rumplestiltskin did not turn. Did not care. His mind was too full of memories of Belle's smile, of her eyes, of her hands, of the scent of her hair. Oh, how he loved her.

He truly was a fool.

His hand had found one of the small teacups. Without thinking, only wanting to take out his anger on _something_, Rumplestiltskin threw it. Hard. It crashed into the stone wall of the dark castle, smashing into pieces. Another one. And another. Then the last one.

But not that one. Because it was the one. The cup Belle had broken. She had dropped it. Yes, he would allow himself that one sentimental trinket. He had to. For himself. Even though her love could not be. His had been. It had been real, more real than anything he had ever felt for Milah and Cora. They disappeared into nothing, compared to what he felt for Belle.

_Belle_

She felt his presence more than she heard it. There was something about him that affected the very air. He was quiet, but months spent with only him for company had made her very aware of what his presence did to the world around him.

The door swung open. Rumplestiltskin looked the same as when they kissed. Belle must not have been locked up for as long as she had feared, then. She did not know whether to be relieved or not. At least he had decided against allowing her to starve.

Then he told her to leave. To go. That he did not love her. Belle knew he was lying. Certain that _he_ knew he was lying. But Belle had learned to know him. Recognized him as the coward he was. So she called him out on it.

He did not deny it. Nor did he agree. He merely stood there, with a blank expression. Not properly looking at her.

So Belle left, with a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes.

_Rumplestiltskin_

Rumplestiltskin watched her walk away from him from his window. Trying to remember every detail of her. Imprint the pattern of her cloak and the exact shade of blue on her dress to his memory. If he could not have her, at least he would be certain to remember her. Remember the woman who reminded him that he was capable of love. Even if proving it meant destroying his heart in ways he, with his magic, could not.

**AN: What do you think? I hope you enjoyed it!**


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